I'm not making excuses here. On Friday, I knew all day long that I would have to wake up very early (by my standards) to play golf very far away on Saturday. I knew when I came home, I should just crawl into bed and go to sleep.
The nature of my job makes it difficult to do that. This time right now, 1:11 a.m., is like the start of the evening for me. I won't be surprised if I don't fall asleep until 4:30 a.m.; that's just the nature of being a copy editor. You need to be at the top of your game at midnight, which makes it very difficult to try and drive home and be asleep by 1, 1:30. Golfing on Saturday on 3 1/2 hours of sleep, after staying up just sitting here on my laptop for several hours doing nothing, was a perfect example of not being prepared: I burst out to an early lead on adrenaline, and then when the lack of sleep hit me, I tanked. Hard.
As the scoreboard shows, I think I'm a marginally better golfer than Alex is. The key is in the preparation. I always wear sunscreen, bring tons of water, Gatorade, sometimes a soda ... my fashionable argyle socks are often a point of discussion, but when you're looking through the deep, high rough for a ball, I bet any guy I play with wishes he had high socks on. Everything I do, I do for a reason.
Alex sometimes fails to prepare properly, and it comes back to haunt him.
The issue going forward is going to be, with the title still very much up for grabs, I think both of us will realize the crucial nature of solid preparation. Friday night, I'm coming home and going to sleep. Period.
And on Saturday evening, when I'm driving to work, I'll have extended my lead after a solid round at our fifth-to-last course of the summer: Hancock.
I know this, because I'll have been prepared.
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